THE Fate of Prophercy
by rezetsunashinji
Summary: For years, she has been the prisoner of a vicious tyrant who wishes to become the King of Legend. For years she has only had that hope that one would help her escape. Now that one has come... And nothing will be the same.. this is story of The scorpion King movie from the sorceress Cassandra perspective.. and alternative ending from the movie
1. THE CURSED GIFT

_**Chapter 1: THE CURSED GIFT**_

 _"They say knowledge is power, but I say it is a poison…"_

 _-Kaileena on the Predetermined fate of the Empress of Time from_ _ **Prince of Persia Warrior Within**_

 **T** he story I wish to tell you, happened. It happened long ago in a time before the sands were towered with the monuments of the kingdom of the pharaohs. But before I can tell you anything else, I must tell you, of something that came before the time my tale was lived. A tale that you must hear in order to fully comprehend my story.

A long time ago there was a small poor, yet humble village of farmers, warriors, wives, husbands, and children. Each family lived in a one room mud brick hut.

But in one hut in particular a young girl sat behind her black mirror in the shadows of the small mud brick home. The images that she saw in its depths where not arranged by time.

"Daughter?" spoke musical voice, and the young girl glanced over.

The voice belonged to an exotic looking woman. Her skin had a golden hue; her hair was the color of obsidian and her eyes where an almond shape and they where as large as they where dark; the women was wearing a simple linen tunic and in her arms was a baby boy.

This woman was Nefertina, also called The Night Star. A great sorceress in her day, but that was long ago.

"What do you see?" She asked the girl.

The girl stood up and turned to face her mother. The light illuminated her visage. The girl may have been a mere eleven years old but the villagers had said her adult beauty was already starting to shine. Her skin had the same golden hue as her mother; her hair was the same obsidian; and her almond eyes had the same depth to them. But there was something more to her. Something…(as all the villagers put it) mystic, to her beauty. She too was wearing a simple linen tunic.

The girl sat by her mother and spoke, "I do not know, Mother, I have seen fire and chaos but I, honestly, do not know where nor when"

"Time will tell," said her mother lightly.

The girl gave small shrug and sat next to her mother. As she did she felt icy cold shivers go down her body, through her very being.

"Daughter?" said her mother with concern.

"Mother," the girl, said her eyes wide. "Something is going to happen to us something…Diabolic".

There was a sound in her front yard, the sound of horse hooves. What was happening? The girl ran to her front door and pulled it open. What she saw made her gasp, hands fly to her mouth in surprise.

In her yard where five soldiers. Four of them where wearing red turbans and had bronze swords it their cuirasses. All of them rode on simple brown horses. All of them but one…

Their leader was wearing silver chain mail and had two swords in his cuirass; his ride was a black steed. His skin was a light tan, the sides of his head was shaven his fine skull had a shock of black hair long and braided in to warrior's braids. He may have been beautiful yet he was virile. Any who did not know his name knew him by his manner.

He was a warlord.

The soldiers and their leader dismounted.

It was then the girl's father appeared. He was a warrior in his own right. His hair was long and dark, his skin a deep tan, his eyes matched the girl's (dark) and he had battle markings on his face, on his belt was a sharpen knife that he always had. Just in case.

The girl's father went to the warlord and said in a strong sure voice, "Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes, I am called the Great Teacher," said the warlord, " and I am here to see The Night Star's daughter. The girl-child that, it has been said, sees with the eyes of the gods".

It was then the warlord's cold eyes fell onto the girl. She felt another icy cold chill course through her soul. She looked down to her sandals.

"I wished to see if the rumors where true," continued the warlord.

Her father nodded and went to the girl, and escorted her to the warlord.

" _Father,"_ she said, softly, in his mind, _"something doesn_ ' _t feel right._ "

"I know, my little Jasmine." He said, whispering his nickname for her. "Just do as he asks, and he'll leave us alone".

The girl nodded not at all patience for this man with his sinister eyes to leave her and her family alone and disturb someone else with his evil presence. Soon enough she stood before the warlord, fighting her urge to run, as far as she could, the other way.

"This is her?" said the warlord surprised, "this is Nefertina's daughter?"

"Yes".

"This is the image of an angel!"

The girl said nothing in response. She couldn't find her voice. She just stared blankly at him.

"Come with me, Young Angel", said the warlord, offering her his hand.

Swallowing, trembling, and vary reluctantly she took it. He led her to his four waiting soldiers. All of whom where waiting at attention.

"Now, Young Angel, tell me the names of these men", said the warlord to the girl.

It was then she found her voice. "Sir, what if I am not correct on a name?" she asked in a strong voice.

She wished she hadn't said it after what happened next.

The Great Teacher (as he had called himself) smiled a cold, heartless, blood-chilling smile, and whispered in her ear, his message for her and her alone, "If you are wrong I will kill that man. I will kill every man whose name you have guessed wrong. Then I will move onto the rest of your petty village, until only you and I are left alive."

She gasped. She glanced to her father her eyes full of fear. Then she looked to this man. Was he bluffing? Was it a lie just to make her tremble so? Was it a bribe to make her get her answers right to impress him? Or was he truly a monster? She looked in to his eyes to see.

The man, the warlord, was not lying. He was deadly serious.

Quickly, she went to every one of the soldiers. Greeting, and saying their names. The soldiers looked surprised (how did this girl they had never seen know their names?) so did the warlord. She surmised that she had gotten them all right.

"Is that all you wished, Sir? Or is there something else you wished of me?" she asked. Praying to the gods above that he would say no.

"No", he said, (she could breathe again) still surprised. "No, that is all".

She nodded and walked to her father. The Great Teacher went to his horse, as did his soldiers.

Then it happened.

A vision seared through her brain, her being. She fell to her knees, her palms pressed against her forehead. Her father ran to her side, knowing well what was happening. Every villager stopped to watch her; they all know her power.

It was then she ripped her hands from her forehead. Her eyes darker than usual

A golden emblem flashed in her eyes. She spoke in a voice unlike her own; it was deep and resounding. It seemed to echo off the deadly silence and into the distance…

… Like the voice of the gods.

" _ **I**_ _N A_ _ **M**_ _ERE_ _ **T**_ _EN_ _ **Y**_ _EARS_ _ **F**_ _ROM_ _ **N**_ _OW_ _ **T**_ _HE_ _ **A**_ _CHIENT_ _ **P**_ _ROPHCEY_ _ **WILL BE APON US**_ " She spoke.

" _ **B**_ _Y_ _ **T**_ _OLLING_ _ **B**_ _ELL_ _ **A**_ _ND_ _ **T**_ _HUNDER'S_ _ **S**_ _WELL._ _ **AF**_ _LAMEING_ _ **S**_ _TAR_ _ **S**_ _HALL_ _ **F**_ _ALL_ _ **F**_ _ROM_ _ **T**_ _HE_ _ **S**_ _KY._ _ **B**_ _Y A_ _ **F**_ _ULL_ _ **M**_ _OON'S_ _ **G**_ _LOW,_ _ **I**_ _N_ _ **H**_ _OUSE_ _ **O**_ _F_ _ **S**_ _CORPIO,_ _ **K**_ _NELLING_ _ **M**_ _EN_ _ **S**_ _HALL_ _ **B**_ _OW_ _ **T**_ _O_ _ **T**_ _HE_ _ **K**_ _ING_ _ **O**_ _N_

 _ **H**_ _IGH._ "

It was then she fell, losing consciousness into the waiting arms of her father. Then the dark warlord mounted on his horse, and rode off slowly understanding her prophecy…

It was nights later, while her father sharpened a hatchet size scythe and her mother was take care of her baby brother, the girl found herself in front of her black mirror once agian. In it she saw…

… _A full moon that shined so bright that it rivaled the sun. On it was a scorpion symbol. Flames framed the peaceful night sky. It was then a shadowed, godlike figure appeared..._

…She leaned forward, now interested…

… _It was then the shadow parted from his features…_

…She gasped. She knew him from somewhere. But where? Her dreams? A vision long ago seen but now forgotten? Before she could tell a loud **BAM** interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up to see the door be yanked off its hinges. And four familiar soldiers bashed through the door.

"Get the girl and her mother," said one.

Suddenly her father ran at the soldiers, swinging his kama. Two of them swept past her father one of them grabbed her, and threw her over his shoulder. Her black mirror fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. It's image now lost and was later forgotten. Her mother was knocked out and was slung over his shoulder. Suddenly there was the sickening sound of metal interring flesh.

"Father! NO!"

She saw the soldier rip his blade out of her father, his blade stained with the blood. Then her baby brother started to cry. She saw a soldier hold his blade above the infant, but then she was rushed outside before she could see it come crashing down.

Outside, was utter chaos, other soldiers killed anything that breathed and burned anything that could burn. She could hear the screams of children, women, and men as they met their end. Tears blurred her eyes. These people where her friends and they where being killed in front of her.

The sight of the carnage was one she would carry for the rest of her life.

The girl tried to fight he captors, but resistance agianst them was futile. For all where greatly strong brutes.

Her mother was thrown on to a horse as she tried to fight her captors.

"Put the girl on a horse with Thorak," said a soldier.

"No", said a familiar voice. "She rides with me".

She looked up to see _him,_ The Great Teacher!

"You!" she gasped.

He smiled a grim smile and pulled her on to his horse.

As they rode off she turned to see her home, her peaceful village, burn to the ground. She had lost everything now. That she knew. She also knew another horrifying fact. Her prediction, her prophecy, that she had days before had come true.

As the years passed the girl grew in the ways of sorcery, and the ways of the soothsayer.

She stayed with her mother, learning these ways under the watchful eye of The Great Teacher.

Until one day, when she was thirteen she and her mother, a former sorceress, devised a plan for her to escape.

They knew what The Great Teacher planned to do.

He planned to use her, as a weapon of war to murder a countless many and become the king of the Ancient Prophecy that she had predicted would come true with in ten years.

As soon as she had learned what she needed, she fled into the desert. There she met a young boy who was also in the desert for a short wile. The girl befriended him and he vowed to help her after hearing a part of her story.

But this was not to be.

Just as freedom was in her reach, she was captured by the Great Teacher's men, trying to save the young boy.

Never agian would she see her new friend agian. She realized this as she was carried away by her captor's right hand man, the boy fadeing into the distance.

The next day, she was brought to the Great Teacher's tent by his soldiers. His back was turned to the girl, so she could not see his face. But, as she looked around, she saw the warlord was not alone.

The girl's mother was also in the tent. Her hands tied behind her back. Pinioned in such away, like an accused facing an executioner.

At once her heart fell.

"You," Spoke the Great Teacher to the former sorceress bitterly, like someone uttering a horrid curse.

" _ **HOW DARE YOU!**_ I have let you live, only for the sake of your daughter! I needed some one to teach her the ways of sorcery, not the ways of treason!"

"You speak as if you 're already King," spoke Nefertina. "You will _never_ be the King favored by the gods, _Barbarian_! You're a _vile_ , _**heartless**_ -!"

"SILENCE!"

The air in the tent was thick with a dark ominous feeling of death.

The girl trembled, in her heart she knew what would happen.

The warlord turn to the Night Star. He sized her by the bottom of her chin and turned her blank beautiful face, free of countenance to her daughter.

"Gaze at your daughter good and well, witch!" He said pulling out his sword. "It will be the _last_ thing you see!"

The girl screamed, "NO!"

She tried to fight the grasp of the two soldiers who had her but her forearms, with no avial.

The warlord made a brandishing movement with his sword, and suddenly, her mother's neck was sliced open.

The girl's heart shattered as she watched her mother, her teacher, her only family now died before her.

That night the girl went back to her tent, weeping, grieving, blaming herself and cursing her, so called "gifts" of prophecy and magic.

She wanted to die, to kill herself. With her mother gone she felt like an empty shell, there was nothing for her to live for anymore. But as she grabbed the knife, and raised it above to stab her heart her head a flash of a vision sized her.

She saw…

… _a man, an Akkadian warrior stealing her away from a towering city. And away from the Red Guard the wretched warlord commanded…_

She lowed the knife and put the knife aside.

The gods had spoken, and she would be committing the most ultimate sin of her kind not to follow their wishes.

Now, I know, dear reader, what you must be thinking since I have told you this small tale of mine.

Who is this girl?

Who is that warlord?

And why does this small, so rather sad, tale play such an important role in the story I wish to tell you?

I shall tell you, and answer those questions.

I was that young girl.

Yes, at eleven I watched my life burn away. I witnessed my dear mother's death, as well as the death of many other's. By the hand of The Great Teacher, that you may know better as Memnon.

Many may know the story of The Time of Prophecy, and of Mathayus, the Scorpion King.

The story of a time where the world learned that it could create it's own destiny. And a man who created a kingdom known throughout the ages.

Over the thousands of years Mathayus has become a man of legend, and myth. Personified as a man, and a monster.

But I wish you to please hear the story of what _really_ happened from one who lived it. The story where, even I learned that a mortal could change the course of the future. The story lost to desert winds. My story.

I am Cassandra, a Daughter of the Furies,also called The Sorceress by the many other storytellers than myself.

And this is the true tale of the Fate of Prophecy


	2. The Wrath of Memnon

_**CHAPTER 2 : THE WRATH OF MEMNON**_

" _I'm frightened by what I see_

 _By somehow I know that there's more to come_

 _Immobilized by my fear_

 _And soon to be_

 _Blinded by tears"_

 _-Evanescence's_ _ **Whisper**_

 **I** have told you I lived in the clutches of Memnon, and his army for many, many years then I care to remember. Years that were all a blur of bloody victories, screams of innocents, and other pains that no one could ever imagine.

As time played it's cruel trick, Memnon came to receive high power. He overthrew the king of his hometown, Gomorrah. And gained more recruits in his (thanks to me) unstoppable army.

I kept my self alive, knowing it was the gods will. My perseverance paid off, when I was eighteen I received another vision. An Akkadian warrior pulling out a magnificent sword out of a stone statue base.

I knew who this was instantly.

I had seen him before, years ago, when I was to be the one to take my own life.

I received several other visions of this assassin over the next two years. Visions of him going off to distant places, and meeting different peoples.

I, later, came to know his name: Mathayus. I never reviled any of this to Memnon, for I knew that Mathayus was the only one who could help me escape the clutches of this monster. If I was to tell Memnon, I knew he would not rest until Mathayus was found and killed. It was something I could not allow.

Something that I wouldn't allow.

One day, sometime after I had learned the assassin's name, I found myself in my chambers of Memnon's royal place. I stood on my balcony that overlooked the golden dunes of the desert, on this particular day the sun was just setting and I stood there, deep in thought.

I was dressed in a halter of sliver and gold, a long skirt made of the finest golden cloth, a regal headdress that proclaimed my authority.

Many may say I was a girl of privilege to be taken up from the poor family that I was born into, and become the royal oracle of a conqueror like the Great Teacher.

I only felt like a caged animal. Wearing clothes that (although pretty and acceptable during my time) showed enough skin to make me feel like a prized object shown to gain favor. It didn't help that Memnon forced me into predicting the deaths of faces that forever haunted my nightmares.

I stood there, wishing that there was someway that I, by myself, could escape this golden prison. But deep in my heart, I knew I could not; memories of that last time haunted my soul and I knew it would result in only one thing: Memnon would just kill more. Kill until he found me.

I felt like a human sacrifice.

Suddenly a young voice broke my thoughts.

"Milady?"

I turned to see a young slave boy who must have been no older then twelve years (no doubt from one of Memnon's conquered tribes), standing near my door. He wore a simple striped linen skirt and headdress. The boy was bowing so low, as if to the mercy of a sword should I have been carrying one.

"Lord Memnon, requests your presence at the meeting with his generals," the boy said softly.

"In the throne room?" I asked.

The boy nodded, and muttered, "Yes, Great Sorceress"

At this I sighed. Knowing what this truly met.

Memnon wished to show me, his _pet_ , off to his generals. To use my power as he had been using it for the past ten years. I was no human to him, only a pawn in his master plan.

"Very well," I spoke, softly. "I shall come at my lord's calling."

The boy bowed and left silently.

As I went to the door I passed my giant silver polished mirror. For a brief second I glanced at the face that had become my own.

I had grown to look like my mother as well as my father. I had my mother's gold skin, long dark eyes and long dark silky hair. I had my father's thin lips, slightly arched eyebrows.

Many say I was beautiful, but I see with no eyes but my own. And urrently those "beautiful" features that were now pulled into a blank mask.

I went into the corridors. At my side where my handmaidens, as well as my many bodyguards.

For the past few days, The Great Teacher seemed to be on edge, worried about my safety. So he gave me more handmaidens to tend my every need, and bodyguards to watch my every move. I supposed he wished to gain my favor, instead he only increased my hatred. Limiting what little freedom I already had.

I strolled through the halls of my golden cage, to "my" lord's throne room.

This regal throne room was more than fifty paces down it's marble floor, the sandstone walls were intracantly carved with beautiful sceanes and the writings of the founders of the city of Gomorrah. At the end of the hall was an exquisite throne made of sandstone and marble raised by a small set of steps, a large scorpion crest above it, and two ivory elephant tusks with their golden tipped ends pointing outward sitting on it's either side. To the right of the throne was a dark stone slab carved with the words of the ancient prophecy that I had foretold would come true all those years ago.

To the left of the grand throne was a table where Memnon, the Great Teacher, stood at in his best battle leathers speaking with several of his finest generals. One of them I recognized was Thorak, a man with a scarred face who had (as many have said before me) been personified as a human demon. This wicked man was Memnon's right hand.

At the sound of my footsteps Memnon and his congregation of generals looked up. Memnon stood up in respect of my coming, like I was an honered guest instead of the prisnor that I really was. Seeing this his generals mimiced his actions.

I stopped at least ten paces away from him and half bowed, my eyes downcast I spoke.

"I am here at you calling, My Lord."

"Cassandra," Memnon said. I could hear his footsteps as he drew closer to me.

I looked up to the man I had hated for almost all of my life, careful to leave no emotion on my face or in my eyes.

Memnon held out his arm. Dispite my turning stomach, I knew what the price would be if I refused. I took it and allowed him to escort me to my mystic table; A round table, small compared to the one where Memnon and his generals had sat at earlier, but big enough for me. On it was a map of papyrus paper made from the best mapmaker, depicting every thing from the insolated island of Crete to the icy cold mountains of the north. Just to the right of this map sat three clay jars, all filled with runic stones that have been in my mother's family for generations.

As I sat at my table a servant with a fan of white ostrich feathers appeared and started to wave cooler air in my direction, providing me with a slight breeze in the unbearable heat

I looked up to Memnon and his generals.

"What do you wish of me, My Lord?" I asked.

"As you know, My Sorceress, the people of Sumer grow weaker," Memnon said.

His generals nodded as Memnon continued.

"Our blockade of their food sources and supplies has weaken their defense."

I said nothing.

I had already knew this, for I was the one who told Memnon that the use of a blockade would lead to victory only in a later time.

"Now tell me, My Seer," Memnon said, leaning forward. "Will I be able to conquer the people of Sumer if I were to attack now?"

I took a deep breath and took several stones out of one if the jars on my table and started to put them onto the map.

I never really had a certain order that I put the stones in. The order just comes to me by instinct. Once I felt like I had put every stone in a proper place I lifted my left hand not far from the insignia where Sumer was, calling for a vision.

There was a slight shiver that went down my spine, then a flash of white that took me…

… _To a battlefield. Sumerian men fought courageous but they where tired from being so malnourished and saddened from watching there families hunt for food like dogs, so these poor people were no match for Memnon and his red turbaned warriors who fought like the most damned evil souls from the fires of the Netherworld._

 _In less time than anyone could of thought possible the ranks were cut down to a small clan, rather than the army it had been._

Suddenly I felt another shiver as my vision shifted

 _Lines upon lines of Sumerains stood. Men, women, children, it made no difference._

 _They stood both terrified as they knew their city was being burned to the ground and in pain, knowing that they had lost their sons, fathers, and husbands in the fight against Memnon._

 _Lines of Memnon's finest Red Turbaned Archers stood, arrows knocked, surrounding the frightened people. From a line appeared Thorak on a brown horse._

" _Bow Before Lord Memnon, you insolate fools!" He yelled._

 _And, there he appeared. Memnon riding his night black war horse with the air of arragontce._

 _Instantly the people fell to their knees. Show the only sign of defeat, and utmost humbleness._

 _Memnon surveyed the scene with his cruel, unforgiving dark eyes._

 _He looked to his men and nodded._

 _At once thousands upon thousands of arrows let fly at the unarmed people of Sumer. Their screams hit the air like ink in water. Their hot, fusing pain, unmatched by any…_

…Then suddenly, it stopped.

The screaming, the pain. It stopped. I took several deep breaths as I tried to get a hold of myself.

I could still feel the fear the people felt as they were taken in front of Memnon and his men. The fresh anguish since they had lost sons, fathers, and husbands in the battle against the impossible. The pain as they finally met their end.

But I knew better, I kept this shared pain inside me. Long ago, I had set up defensive walls inside me. Otherwise, becoming a slave to my visions like many before me would be the price I would pay for having my "gift."

Feeling numb, I sat my hand down next to the map. I turned to Memnon and his congregation, staring at the marble floor.

"The Sumerians are weakened, their moral is low. Their physical strength will be no match for you or your men, My Lord," I informed Memnon and his generals.

Once I finished speaking, the generals turned to smile at each other like greedy children. No caring, or showing any humility at what pain they would cause.

Memnon gave me a thrumpht smile, obviously proud of my prediction.

"Very well, my Sorceress," He said.

With that he turned to his generals and continued to plan the next campaign. Leaving me with my own thoughts.

I looked back to the elaborate pattern that I had made with the stones on the map. I then glanced up to the north of the map, where the snow-packed mountain ranges and the craggy border marked the edge of this known world.

I felt a strange tug, compelling me to conjure a vision from those high frigid mountains.

Long ago, I had learned to trust my inner voice. So I held out my hand over the area on the map that there was snowcapped mountains.

At once, as if I where transported there by some magical force, I saw with startling clearness…

… _The Akkadian warrior, Mathayus, covered from head to foot in soot, emerging from the thick smoke and fire. His hood and pant legs where aflame, wreathing him in a hellish aura. A large bow in one hand and a magnificent gleaming scimitar in the other._

 _From his face opened his dark eyes wide, and a wider white smile._

 _But Mathayus was not alone. Men, barbarians in furs with wiry, tangled nests of beards and hair where also in the cabin with him_ (I somehow knew this).

 _They looked to the Akkadian, fearful. And they had good reason to feel afraid of him._

 _Four of the barbarians lay at Mathayus feet, headless! Blood spilling from them._

 _Mathayus looked at them with a terrible murderous smile._

 _Seemingly crazed, he proclaimed to the barbarians, "I…Am…DEATH!"_

 _That was all it took._

 _Instantly, those superstitious fools ran for the doors of the cabin. Only few dared to grab furs before running in to the mountain wilderness._

 _Meanwhile, Mathayus went to pat out the flames on his pants and hood. As he did so, another Akkadian bound eagle spread to a cross-crossed and tied together pair of beams came into veiw. This Akkadian had the same dark hair, and eyes as Mathayus. But unlike him he had a blue green triangle tattooed between his eyebrows, and lion paw prints marked cheekbones._

 _This man I recognized as Mathayus' older brother, Jesup._

" _Hey!" Jesup said, as he tugged at his bindings, trying to free himself. "Don't you let them go!"_

 _Mathayus ignored him openly, still patting out the flames._

" _I told them that you'd kill them all!" Jesup yelled. "Don't make a damned lair out of me!"_

 _At this Mathayus sighed, and shook his head._

" _You're lucky we have the same mother," He said in a mock disapproving tone._

 _And the younger Akkadian cut his brother's bindings…_

…Suddenly my vision shifted, taking me…

 _Outside the burning cabin Mathayus and Jesup where joined but their third brother. The brown hared and lightly tanned Rama, who like Jesup bore battle markings._

 _The trio where tying bodies to a toboggan that was connedt to the reins of their horses. They where assassins, after all, and had a bounty to collect. It was their only way of survival in this world now that all of their kind had been mysterously killed off years ago._

 _Jesup and Rama both mounted on their horses, ready to leave this desolate place of ice and snow, but one thing stopped them._

 _Mathayus._

 _His dark eyes were upward, surveying the heavens, as if looking for something._

" _Mathayus?" Rama said, curious at his brother's sudden hesitation._

" _Is there something wrong?" Asked Jesup, reading the slightly troubled look on the youngers face._

" _I like I am being…Watched," Mathayus said, his voice sounding distant._

 _His two older brothers exchanged looks. They too were starting to feel that strange feeling that some unknown force was spying on them as well._

" _Well, if you are, maybe we should go," Jesup spoke up._

 _Rama nodded._

 _Mathayus just shrugged his shoulders and cracked the reins leaving the barbarian's cabin in smoldering embers behind them…_

"Cassandra?" Spoke a voice.

I held a hand up to my headdressed forehead, I glanced up to see Memnon looking at me. His generals staring at me as well.

"Are you alright?" Ask one of them. His name was Toran, I believe.

"I am well, Good Sir," I told him.

I then turned to Memnon.

" Forgive me, My lord," I spoke softly. "My mind wondered farther then I would of liked."

Memnon nodded.

"This day has been very trying for you", Memnon said. "I have asked you to have at least four visions on the outcome of several other battles today."

I said nothing, I just looked to the floor.

"I do insist you get some rest," Memnon continued, then he waved his hand almost idly. "You are excused."

I rose up and gave a half bow to Memnon and his generals.

"Thank you, My lord," I murmured softly.

I then went to my chambers. As soon as I reached them I sent my attendants away. Wishing to be alone.

I sat down on my canopied bed. Deep in thought.

Mathayus could feel me that time. Strange, this hadn't happened. Never before. But I brushed this thought aside.

After that vision, I sensed something. Something more important than that.

The time the Akkadian would come to me was drawing closer.

It would not be long now.


	3. Vision of saviour

**CHAPTER 3 :** **Vision of saviour**

" _Fidelity- A virtue peculiar to those who are about to be betrayed"_

 ** _-Ambrose Bierce_**

 **A** fter conquering Sumer, Memnon set his sights on the last free tribes: The Kingdom of Ur, the Nubians, and the Amazonians.

During this campaign Memnon demanded that I follow him and his soldiers.

Wither it was because he enjoyed my company since he had called more and more often for me or because he was getting concerned about me I cannot say. Both are thoughts that made me ill, even after all this time. But I did know that Memnon seemed to have a great and strange 'bout confidence in conquering the Kingdom of Ur.

I made this chilling discovery as I had been gazing in to my black mirror, when he came into my tent for his usual calling.

"Cassandra," He greeted me softly, a horrible grin on his face.

I looked up at the sound of his voice. Despite the bile rising in my throat, I did my best to keeping my devoid of emotion. Something I had learned to over the years, and well.

"What do you predict about the campaign against Ur?" he asked.

"Personally my lord," I spoke honestly. "I foreseen a rather trying battle. Ur's king, Pheron maybe elderly, but he is wise in the ways of war. He is a respectable man, and his people would follow him to the ends of the earth if need be.'

Memnon nodded, an odd look in his eye that made me instantly on guard.

"Perhaps that is true, but I have the visions of a powerful sorceress," Memnon replied. "As well a secret weapon that, quite soon I feel, will come to my disposal."

I looked to him, unable to mask my pondering of his words.

 _A secret weapon?_ I thought.

"My lord?" I said, fearing to ask.

But Memnon held up a hand to silence me. That familiar cruel smile on his face.

"Do not worry, my Beautiful Dear," He said. "You will know in time."

At the words 'Beautiful Dear' I felt the strong desire to slap the heartless warlord with all my might across the jaw. But I knew better. Such a deed would have me killed or worse.

I narrowed my eyes, clenched my fists under that table, and fixed my eye onto the depths of my black mirror.

I did not know how much more I could take from this horrible man.

Later on that night I stood, alone, in that same tent, deep in thought.

Now looking back out of all of the camp, I do think that tent, my own, was the most comfortable. It was a gigantic dome made out of the thickest hides to keep out drafts of the night. Symbols were painted on the furs showing my craft. Furniture stood on rugs and hides, tapestries hung from the high rafters. The fire I had lit that night in the center of the tent made a ground level fog.

And here I stood gazing at my map I had suddenly covered with my runic stones. For some rather odd reason I found myself dressed in my finest golden halter, with my black cape with a high-winged collar, and golden skirt. My usual golden headdress at my brow as my dark hair fell loosely over my shoulders. My hands decorated with golden hand-flowers, my fingers tipped with matching silver claws. Around my neck I placed a golden chain necklace with a single charm given to me years ago by my mother.

Perhaps it was something that could be felt on the air that night, that I had dressed as such.

Like something life altering would happen.

I let my hand hover over the map, over the desert where Memnon, his men, and I were to spend the night.

Closing my eyes, I summoned a vision. Trying to make sense of my sudden actions. Then in a slight shiver the went up my spine and a flash of white filled my eyes…

… _A campfire burned and flickered in the presence of a circle of carved, weathered stone. A place that was sacred to both men and gods._

 _Yet at this holy place the leaders of the last free tribes stood, in a thickly heated argument. Among this council, sitting on a worn throne of stone, was the King of the very country of Ur. A noble, yet grizzled and weathered king, oddly similar to the stones around him._

 _King Pheron himself._

" _Silence!" He called. Trying to get the attention of the tribal leaders, and to stop the chaos that seemed to be brewing from this discussion._

" _My father calls for silence!" Takmet, Pheron's young lightly bearded son demanded. "Hold your_ ** _tongues!_** _"_

 _The bickering fell to rumbling and grumbling._

" _Discord_ ** _mus_** _t cease!" King Pheron yelled angrily._

 _At once the arguing fell to silence._

" _We are gathered here, at this sacred place, to put our differences_ ** _aside!_** _" King Pheron spoke wisely, glaring at a few tribal members at his last word. "There is still time for us! Without us, the last of the free tribes, the world will be forever lost!"_

 _From the darkness stepped a pretty, regal Nubian women; her dark hair braided like a warrior's, her dark skin dressed in battle leathers of war. Her head was held high as she turned to Pheron._

 _She was Queen Isis of the Warrior Women._

 _Around her stood a small group of dark women warriors, clad the same way she was. He voice was filled with power and authority as she spoke._

" _Fellow Ruler, Memnon's forces outnumber our own: Ten to one. His armies are the likes of which we have never seen." She spoke in a final tone. Isis then took a deep breath then spoke again._

" _I am sorry, Pheron. Your heart my be strong and your intentions noble, but warriors, and especially rulers and leaders, must choose their stands wisely. So, we choose_ ** _not_** _to join you in this suicidal battle."_

 _King Pheron looked to Isis, judging her character quickly._

" _Will you flee then?" Asked King Pheron coolly. "Like the frightened females you seem to show us that you are?"_

 _Isis' eyes flared, her jaw tightened. But she listened as Pheron continued._

" _Because you know, as well as everyone else here knows, that Memnon will surely bring conquest to your door. You and your people have a choice. You can stand and fight, or run like cowards. And even that cannot save you for long."_

 _The warrior queen's eyes narrowed, but she looked as if she was taking the king's words, however wounding, into careful consideration._

 _King Pheron stood up. He glanced to the tribal leaders. These where not just men, but warriors. They had traveled near and far to be at this council, just to have a hope that there was_ ** _still_** _a chance. A chance of avoiding their greatest fear._

" _We must stand together against this_ ** _tyrant_** _!" King Pheron bellowed, his strong voice echoing across the clearing. "Divided, we will be like the rest of human sheep…slaughtered, by these wicked_ butchers _. Memnon will sweep to the sea, he will destroy us…One by one."_

" _Bold words, King of Ur!" Spoke a nomadic chieftain whose faces was as scarred as the cuirass he wore. "But what of the Sorcerer, Pheron? The human-demon at Memnon's side who sees with eyes like the gods and foretells the outcome of every battle?"_

 _Another chieftain called out._

" _With his damned sorcerer at his side,_ ** _no mortal_** _can defeat Memnon! You very well know that, Pheron!"_

 _The tribal leaders nodded at this. King Pheron looked to them. Looking at their battle hardened faces filled with fear at the mere mentioning of Memnon's seer._

 _King Pheron bent foreword._

" _And if this great sorcerer were to_ ** _die_** _, what then?"_

 _The leaders looked to each other, eyes widened. But before they could consider, or ask what Pheron had planned, a deep voice rumbled from the shadows._

" _Another one of your schemes, Pheron?" Asked the voice. Then there was a rude snort._

" _Too late, too little."_

 _Angered by this, Takmet stepped up and snarled at the shadows where the voice came from._

" _You will do_ ** _well_** _to respect my father!"_

 _It was at this moment a large figure stepped from the shadows into the firelight._

 _A man, a Nubian with a face might as well of been a crude battle mask. He bore decorative scars on his cheeks, slit-like eyes, and a wild knot of hair on the top of his otherwise shaven head. Battle beads from his tribe circled his neck, his leathers barely hid his thick muscles._

 _This was Balthazar, the legendary warrior of warriors._

" _The truth respects_ ** _no one_** _," Balthazar boomed, his deep voice resonating along the clearing. "It is only the truth, and men who do not listen to it deserve no respect from me or any other man."_

" _Men who do not listen to reason deserve no respect either, Balthazar" Spoke King Pheron._

" _Listen to the_ ** _truth_** _, Pheron!" Balthazar snapped. "My men and I have raided Memnon's caravans. Broken the supply line to his troops, stung his soldiers moral, yet they still swept across the land like a plague. I will_ ** _not_** _send my people to their deaths in a_ ** _battle_** _that_ ** _can't be won!_** _"_

 _Takmet strolled up to Balthazar, a goblet of wine in his hand. Perhaps this was the source of his foolishness, because he spoke rather boldly, "And what people will that be, Balthazar?"_

 _Balthazar gave Takmet a burning gaze that would of made any other sensible man bite his tongue, yet the kings son continued._

" _You are the ruler of_ ** _nothing,_** _but a pile of rocks, and sand."_

 _Then, with the reflexes of a jungle cat, Balthazar swiped out a hand and latched his thick fingers around the young man's wrist. Suddenly he started to squeeze, and hard as well._

 _The goblet of wine fell from Takmet's hand as he cried out in pain, falling to his knees._

" _If I am_ ** _no king_** _," Growled Balthazar in a low voice. "Then_ ** _why_** _are you on your knees before_ ** _me?_** _"_

" _Balthazar!" Yelled King Pheron._

 _The kings royal guard that had traveled with them lashed out their swords. Balthazar shoved Takmet to the ground like a rag doll, and reached back for his sword near a tree trunk._

 _The air seemed to thicken around the fire lit clearing with the promise of a fierce battle, and bloodshed…_

… _When something seemed to fly from the darkness, and slammed itself into the tree trunk above Balthazar's sword, just a hairs breath away from his fingers. The king looked to it in surprise._

 _A iron kama that was the size of a hatchet._

 _Balthazar looked up as a deep voice spoke from the darkness, that it, although was not as deep as the Nubian Warrior's, it held confidence and a quiet threatening way about it that made the warrior tense his muscles in alert._

" _So much talk, so much arguing, and so little cooperation. Memnon may just wait for you_ ** _fools_** _to kill_ ** _each other_** _"._

 _Everyone turned to see who was the source of that dark voice when a trio of tall, darkly cloaked figures emerged from the shadows like phantoms._

 _They moved with the grace of deadly demons who did not questioning their power over man. Yet the swords and knifes that clanked as the moved told the tribal leaders that these three where not demons, but that they where warriors, like the rest of them._

 _They stopped before the fire, and pulled black their hoods one by one, the first reveled to be Jesup, the second Rama, and the last was none other than the thrower of the kama, Mathayus whose skin seemed more bronze in the firelight._

 _They stood, holding their heads up high._

 _Many tribal leaders got up and stepped back as if they had seen ghosts, as they looked to the warrior's complexion and braids. Only Balthazar said what was on their minds._

" _Akkadians," He breathed, his voice betraying a certain awe at what was before him. "I thought they were wiped out long ago."_

 _King Pheron simply turned to Balthazar, as he was the only one who had expected the arrival of the three warriors._

" _They are the last of their kind, Balthazar," He said. "And by their hand, Memnon's sorcerer shall die."_

 _Balthazar turned to King Pheron, his disapproval evident on his face._

" _You put your faith, and our fate in the hands, in a clan of cutthroats who kill for_ ** _money_** _?" He asked, curtly._

 _Mathayus fixed Balthazar with a stare that would of turned water from the hottest desert in to ice. Yet he said nothing._

" _They are more than that," He said. "They are skilled assassins. Trained for generations in the deadly arts."_

 _Balthazar gave another rude snort at this._

" _It doesn't change what they are, Pheron," He said. "They kill for money and such men are not to be trusted."_

 _Takmet, who appeared to try to gain back some of his wounded dignity, strode up to the assassins._

 _He looked to the battle marked face of Jesup and Rama, then to the unmarked face of Mathayus._

" _You," He spoke the younger, his tone dripping with disrespect. "The others have markings for war. Why do you not wear your clans markings?"_

" _Maybe, I have not earned that right," Mathayus said turning his icy cold gaze to Takmet._

" _Oh really?" Takmet said, his tone still filled with that disrespect that was evidently angering the Akkadian._

 _Mathayus let a hand go to the hilt of his scimitar with a certain cold ease, right in Takmet's full view._

" _Maybe, I haven't killed enough men who have asked stupid questions." Mathayus said, an edge in his tone._

 _Well, the silent message that Mathayus was sending the insulting prince was heard well. Takmet quickly stepped back, out of harm's way. He turned to his father, the king of Ur._

" _At what price," Takmet started slowly, as if fearing the answer. "Do these mercenaries ask from us, father?"_

 _King Pheron pulled out a small leather pouch from scarred his cuirass._

" _Twenty blood rubies," He answered his son quietly._

" _Father!" Takmet started, in complete shock. "But… That's the last of the kingdom's treasury!"_

" _Be_ ** _quiet_** _, boy!" He snapped, wearing a frown that reviled even more lines in his weathered face._

 _Takmet stepped back as if he had received a terrible blow, in a strange way he had…_

…Suddenly my vision did a strange thing and, in this brief moment, I could sense Takmet's thoughts. His anger at his father for letting the kingdom fall to this. Feeling as if his father had always treated him like a child. How he was embarrassed at this how he thought that he would make his father pay but before I could focus any longer on this my vision continued…

… _Fists clenched, Takmet left the circle and stormed into the shadows._

 _His father sighed, and turned to the warriors and leaders before him and asked the question in which he had called this council._

" _If these men kill the sorcerer, then will you fight together?"_

 _The tribal leaders looked to each other, after a quick discussion with their advisors, one by one they nodded. Even Isis and her warriors nodded, in agreement with Pheron._

 _Now only Balthazar was left to make a response._

 _He took a deep sigh that was like the winds across the desert sands…_

… _Then he nodded his final agreement._

" _So be it," Said King Pheron, throwing the pouch to Jesup, who caught it easily._

" _As long as one of us still breaths the sorcerer will die," He said, pledging the Akkadian's blood oath._

 _Then the three turned to leave, when Balthazar yanked out the iron kama from the tree trunk and called to Mathayus._

" _Assassin!"_

 _Mathayus turned just as Balthazar threw the iron kama that went whipping and whirling at his head…_

… _And Mathayus snatched it out of the air before it could hit him between the eyes, where it was aimed. He lowered the kama, and looked to Balthazar. A stern, calculating look in his dark eyes._

 _Mathayus turned to Pheron, and spoke._

" _As for_ ** _him_** _,"- Mathayus said, glancing tellingly to Balthazar-"We'll kill for free."_

 _Then the Akkadians melted into the shadow from whence they came…_

…I let my hand fall to my side.

With my strange power, I just knew that my vision had taken place several days ago.

 _So_ , I thought to myself. _That's Memnon's secret weapon._

Takmet.

The anger, and the pain that Takmet had been going through was enough to make any man go into rage. He was possible of doing anything…

Even kill his own father.

I had a horrible feeling that with the encouragement of Memnon he would soon do just that. But before I could continue this train of thought I heard something.

A soft _thump_ behind me, like a large cat landing on it feet. Then the soft, stalking foot steps, as if a predator had appeared in my tent, hunting it's prey. Preparing for the final swift strike.

I could almost feel him pull back the bowstring of his carved bow, a mighty arrow knocked ready to set fly.

I took a deep breath as if I was going to take a plunge into cold water.

 _So, it is time,_ I thought to myself.

I turned to see the person that I had sensed, standing behind me. There stood the Akkadian warrior, the one I had had visions of for the last several years.

Mathayus.

The string of his powerful bow pulled back, his arrow aimed at my pounding heart.


	4. the last of Akkadian

_**CHAPTER 4 : LAST OF THE AKKADIANS**_

 _"My day has been too long. In the morning I saw the sons of Unamis happy and strong;_

 _and yet, before the night has come, I have lived to see the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans."_

- _James Fenimore Cooper,_ ** _The Last of the Mohicans_**

 **H** is eyes widened when I turned to him. Mathayus paused, surprised. I could not blame him. After all he had been sent to kill a man, not a women. This had to be the last thing he had expected.

I studied him, looking at him up and down. After seeing him in so many of my visions, I couldn't help but feel a child-like curiosity towards the man before me.

His copper colored skin, was made a warm bronze by the candle-light, his long dark hair fell down his back, a few strands of it braided in the warrior braids of his people. His dark eyes were piercing, his face bore feature similar to that of a carved statue. His muscles exposed. Even dressed in a leather cuirass and leather breeches he seemed as if he were like some sort of lost god in this hellish desert.

Then suddenly, Mathayus closed his eyes, and shook his head. He looked as if he where trying to get hold of himself.

I then used my power to gently push into his mind.

I found pain. Just earlier he saw his two brothers slain like cattle as they had tried to infiltrate Memnon's camp, but he still went on determined to get his job done. Then I found what I was looking for. What he was thinking about seeing a women dressed in royal garb in the tent of the "man" he had come to kill.

 _This is sorcery,_ He had thought _. After all, I was hired to kill a sorcerer. Sorcerer's can cast illusions, change their appearance to the eye. I have seen it before._

Mathayus aimed his arrow to my heart.

I stepped towards him.

"I am Cassandra," I said, introducing myself.

My jewelry tinkled like a fountain when I stepped foreword.

Once again, Mathayus aimed the arrow at my heart.

I stopped, and slowly eased into his mind. My message for him and him alone.

" _You've been betrayed, Mathayus,"_ I spoke into his mind.

Mathayus squeezed his eyes shut. Now it was obvious to him that I was no illusion, and I was the sorcerer he had come to kill.

The _sorceress_ he had come to kill.

Then Mathayus opened his eyes, he slighted down that arrow before he spoke.

"You know my name?" He asked me, his voice deep.

For some strange reason, I felt my heart quicken it's, already fast, pace at the sound of his voice, and a strange warm feeling had suddenly washed over me, like stepping into a hot bath. Ignoring this feeling, I nodded to him and answered his message.

" _And why you're here…"_ I told him in his mind.

But I did not want it to end just yet, I wished to see if he was stronger than the other men I had used this enchantment on.

" _But I am afraid you will not find me so easily slain."_

It was then I casted the spell. Giving him a sensation that time was slowing, even as I could feel thoughts in his mind race.

"So kill me," I said aloud this time. " _If_ you can."

I looked at Mathayus, letting my eyes fall deep within his.

My mother had once told me that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. I wished to see the soul of the man before me. I could tell my spell was making him feel weak.

Whether or not he would let fly the bowstring into my heart was in his hands.

If he did, well, let it be known that I did not fear death. In my heart I knew it was kind, merciful compared to what I have been forced to do to many.

Time seemed to be frozen for those moments.

Leaving me, standing there at the mercy of Mathayus and his bow and arrow. Mathayus, the feared Akkadian assassin, who seemed to be at a loss of what to do now that his victim was the last thing he would expect.

He had never killed a women before.

Would I be his first?

Suddenly he let go the bowstring.

I could almost feel the arrow as it let fly…

…Just past me to the guard who had crept up behind me and hit him in the chest.

The arrow took him out of his life instantly, he fell dead to the ground.

I turned to look at Mathayus.

He was knocking another arrow, alert, himself now.

I took a sad sigh.

Deep down I was hoping he would be merciful and take my life, but now I knew it could not happen.

"I am sorry Akkadian," I told him, meaning my every word. "You lost your chance."

It was then another guard appeared. Mathayus threw down the bow and took up the scimitar and the iron kama that I had seen him with in several of my vision.

The guard swung at his head. Mathayus, quickly blocked the blow with his scimitar, and swung the kama at his stomach. There was a sound of cold metal interring flesh, and Mathayus shoved him to the floor.

Suddenly another appeared behind him, Mathayus traded a quick set of blows. Then suddenly gave the man a quick, deep slash across the chest. Mathayus elbowed him to the ground.

He turned around to see two other warriors appear, swinging their swords at the Akkadian. In an impressive display of skill, Mathayus swung around.

In a flash of steel, the two men dropped. One dead, one wounded.

I was chilled when he turned to the last one, the expression on his face ice-cold and emotionless. Swinging the scimitar so it's point faced the ground, then he sent the blade crashing down.

Mathayus yanked the blade out of the guard, and turned to me.

I knew I must of looked astonished since could not hide my surprise.

I had heard of Mathayus' skill, but to see it with my own eyes…

…His skill had taken my breath away and shocked me how easily he could take the life of five of Memnon's best guards. Despite the fact I detested bloodshed, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. By his grace, speed, and strength.

Suddenly, dozens of Memnon's Red Turbaned men appeared in my tent, and they swarmed Mathayus like insects to honey.

Mathayus did his best to try to hold them off. Fighting them with the ferocity of an angry lion. But their numbers where about to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, Thorak came running at him, a three pronged trident in his hands. He thrusted the three points at the Akkadian's neck, pinning him to the central post of my tent.

Quickly I went into his mind.

" _I am sorry, Akkadian,"_ I spoke in his mind, meaning those every words.

I had never wanted him to be found, and now perhaps I would never be saved.

" _I am sorry."_

The soldiers around the Akkadian parted to show "My" Lord.

Mathayus obviously knew who he was the second his dark eyes laid upon him. The man who had entered dressed in golden chain mail and black battle leathers with a cruel look forever in his eye could only be one person.

Memnon, the Great Teacher himself.

He looked at Mathayus, a look of slight surprise on his face.

"A living, breathing Akkadian," He said, appraising the pinned warrior before him. "Well, this is a rare pleasure."

He stepped close to Mathayus, his cruel eyes locked on to that of the Akkadian's.

"I hear that you kind trains it's warriors to bear, great pain," Memnon said quietly. "You must teach me this…If you live long enough."

In a boldness that none had dared, Mathayus spat bitterly in Memnon's face.

Memnon then gave the assassin a sharp backhand across the jaw, a blow that sent blood splattering the tent wall behind them.

"So you _do_ bleed like any other man," Memnon pointed out.

Mathayus gave a bloody snarl, like a hungry dog just denied it's meal. At once several members of the Red Guard ran to Mathayus' side, tying his arms and neck back to the center post. Once they had bound him successfully, Thorak removed the trident.

Mathayus meanwhile was giving Memnon a look of pure contempt. Then a all too familiar voice spoke.

"What? No more daring words from the assassin? Not so full of yourself are you now?"

Mathayus and I turned to see Takmet, the son of King Pheron step into the tent, a leather sack in his right hand.

Mathayus at first glanced at me (perhaps surprised that my prediction came true), before he turned to the traitor.

"You?" He said surprised, his eyes wide at what he was seeing. " _You_ are our betrayer?"

Takmet gave an amused smile at this, and a sarcastic bow.

Mathayus gave him a cold look.

"You would betray your own _father? Your own people?_ " He asked, a disgusted growing look on his face.

Takmet just shrugged his shoulders.

"My _father_ , was a fool," Takmet replied. "He deserved no better from me for treating me like a child."

Takmet turned to Memnon, untying the leather sack he held in his hand.

"He was very shocked when I told him that I planned to join your campaign," Takmet informed Memnon, reaching in to the sack. "You could tell from the look on his face…"

And from the sack, Takmet pulled out the head of his own father. The surprised look on the face of the late King of Ur evident.

Mathayus scowled, sickened at what he saw. I turned away, more repulsed that someone would fall that low then at the sight of a dead man's head (I had seen far worse then that). The Red Guard, and even Thorak wore frowns on their faces.

I glanced to Memnon. Unlike the men here, he was not disgusted. In fact he seemed amused at the sick display before him.

It only shows that evil knows evil.

"By my father's head," Takmet said formally, brandishing the head of King Pheron in a sick ceremony, before tossing it to Memnon's feet. "I pledge my allegiance!"

Memnon nodded, that amused smile still on his face.

"You have proven your loyalty Takmet," Memnon said casually. "You shall command my left wing, and serve as governor of Ur after it's capture."

Memnon turned to Thorak, his second in command.

"And with Thorak in command of my right wing, will shall destroy all who dare challenge our might."

Around him the Red Turban guards seemed to be holding on to Memnon's every word.

The Great Teacher turned to me.

"And with the rise of the demon moon, my armies will sweep to the sea and I shall ascend to the throne as the King of Legend, the favored ruler of the gods. Just as the prophecy decrees."

Taking a deep sigh, I nodded. Confirming the inevitable.

Memnon had turned back to Mathayus (who looked as if he would like nothing more than to slice Memnon in two) when there was a clatter of armor. Two men, obviously soldiers, appeared. Between them they held a man who looked to be marked with arrow wounds, barely alive.

He raised his head to look in to the eyes of Mathayus.

It was then I recognized the man, it was Jesup. The Akkadian's older brother.

"My Lord," Spoke one of the solders. "We have shot this one down with enough arrows to kill any other man here, yet he still lives."

Memnon looked even more amused.

"Well this is interesting," Memnon said, looking at the wounded warrior before him. "For an extinct race, these surviving Akkadians, seem to be hard to kill."

Memnon walked over to Mathayus and took one of the throwing knifes from his belt. He flipped the blade over in his hand to get a better look at it. The metal seem to gleam with an unnatural blue light, an magnificent example of the Akkadian craftsmanship in blade making.

"Beautiful," He said in pure admiration.

The Great Teacher's eyes locked to those of the Assassins. And I quickly knew what Memnon had planned with Mathayus' knife.

He turned to his two soldiers and said, "Bring the him to me."

Mathayus then yanked at his bindings with the strength of a cornered beast as Memnon made his way to Jesup. The Assassin fought against the bindings and the Red Guards who surpiseingly were able to hold back the raging warrior.

"Mathayus," Came Jesup's weak voice.

At the sound of his brother's voice, Mathayus fought harder and harder against the ropes, with no avail.

"Mathayus," Jesup said his voice more urgent.

Jesup closed his eyes for a brief moment, and Mathayus stopped fighting his captors. Then Jesup's bright clear eyes locked on to that of his younger brother.

He had the look of one who was not afraid of death, but welcomed it. For he knew that was all he could do.

"Live Free," Jesup said, his voice soft.

The younger Akkadian swallowed hard, a pained look flashed across his face.

"Die Well, my brother…" Mathayus said, resignedly.

And in one vicious move, Memnon slit the Akkadian's throat.

I quickly turned to Mathayus. The pain on his face was so similar to the one that I had when I watched Memnon kill my mother. I did not need to use sorcery to know how he was feeling.

The aching pain, and the emptiness that follows it is one that is worse than any torture the man can could up with.

It was when Mathayus turned away from the sight of his dead brother that I felt it.

At first I thought it was just a insect buzzing around my ears, but the rumbling got louder and louder.

I let a hand go up to my forehead.

It was strange but I could sense a deep rumbling, as if something deep, something powerful was shifting.

I looked to the guards around the room.

No one seemed to be disturbed by this great change that I could sense on the air. Suddenly, my eyes flew to Memnon, the dagger in his hand was dripping liquid rubies and I saw something that only my eyes could see…

… _The Great Teacher's face was edged in silver. A dancing halo of fiery light shimmered around his brow…_

…Then I blinked and the image disappeared.

Memnon stood before, the Akkadian, studying the knife in his hand.

"I have never used a blade as sharp as this," The Great Teacher said.

He looked up to Mathayus, a cruel smile on his face.

"I wonder if it's blade will not dull when it is used a second time."

Memnon walked up to Mathayus, the last of the Akkadians. Knife in his hand.

Mathayus took the little time he had left to look to Takmet, Thorak, me, then lastly Memnon. A wry smile formed on his face.

"I will meet all of you again," Mathayus said, not fearing the death Memnon had planned for him. "In the Underworld.'

Memnon returned the smile.

"Oh but not for a long time, Akkadian," Memnon said, preparing to make the final slash.

Now, was the time I _**had**_ to act.

" _Stop!"_ I said, making my voice as sharp as a blade.

At the sound of my voice the eyes of every man turned to face me. Holding my head high, I stepped foreword.

" _Wait"_ I said, my voice strong, holding authority, my chin up, staring in to the eyes of monster.

I would not allow the Great Teacher to kill the only hope I had of escape.

"Mathayus shall not die tonight," I informed him.

"If _that_ is a prophecy, Sorceress," Memnon said, still poised to slash. "Then perhaps I am in need of a new seer."

I let my eyes narrow.

"Change your future if you wish," I said coolly.

At once that captured Memnon's attention. As well as the attention of every other man in the tent, (including a surprised, taken aback Mathayus).

"Should Mathayus die by your hand," I continued. "Or, any hand you command. A great misfortune shall fall upon you. The gods are watching my king, and they have shown the Akkadian favor on this night."

The guards around us seemed to tremble by my words. Even the soldiers, who had killed many, men, women and children seem to look to each other, their eyes showing how they already feared the "misfortune" that, (I confessed) I predicted on a whim to help the Akkadian survive. Mathayus looked to me, with a calculating look, as if he wasn't sure what to think of me. Memnon sighed, as if been denied a real treat, and nodded. He stepped back away from the Akkadian.

The Akkadian and the Great Teacher locked eyes, sharing looks of pure contempt.

"It's a puzzle then," Memnon said. "How to kill you without using my hand or any hand I command."

Suddenly, Thorak swung the trident, at the Akkadian's jaw, knocking him unconscious. Quickly the Red Guard untied the limp Mathayus.

"Take him with the horse thief," The Great Teacher said. "They'll both be excellent food for the fire ants. After all, that is not hand of mine, nor any hand I command."

The guards nodded, and took the warrior out of my tent. With them went the rest of the Red Guards, Thorak, and Takmet. Now only the Great Teacher and I stood in the tent, alone.

Memnon turned to me. His eyes filled suddenly with suspicion.

"Are you sure it was _just_ the gods who showed the Akkadian favor?" He asked coldly.

I looked to him, my jaw tight. Trying with all my might to hide the fear I felt creeping in my chest.

"With all due respect, My Lord," I said, my eyes narrowed, my voice as cool as ice. "If you are coming to question my word, then perhaps _are_ in need a new seer."

And with that said, I gave a low bow and turned to go to a curtained area of my tent. I stood there for a few seconds waiting for the footsteps that would tell me the Memnon had left my tent.

Once he did, I decided I had to be more careful, if I had a vision of Mathayus somehow surviving (that is only _if_ , it was a slim chance, after all). I had to be more wary.

For the Great Teacher did suspect something.

But what, I did not know.


	5. taking advantages from you

**I** n my time, and in your time (I have noticed) as well, Gomorrah was a city, that had becomefamous for it's reputation of sin and decadence. Yet in my time it was a city of order and control, or it's outward appearance any way.

Behind the thick outer walls, at the heart of the bustling city, was a place-like fortress with battlements and turrets.

In this place was a throne room made of sandstone. Walls adorned with designs that, I predicted, would evolve in time. Touch lamps of dark iron and bowls of oil fire on spindled legs gave the great chamber a golden hue. Rugs, oversized urns, lush drapes of rich colors, intricate tapestries and golden statues of the gods decorated the room.

Along the left wall, two beasts, a lion and a tiger slept. The two where no bigger than cubs and where a kingly gift from faraway countries.

A great throne of gold, with a great shield-like disc with the symbol of Lord Memnon, with two large ivory tusks on either side of the throne pointing out wards.

Along the right side of the throne room was a great balcony, looking out onto the city.

Next to this balcony is where I sat at my mystic table. Claud in glittering gold chain mail, a golden skirt, my usual headdress, handflowers and other jewelry.

Before me on the table was a map of the known world, and on it was my assorted stones of jades, agates, and other ancient stones. I let my hand hover over the stones, closing my eyes, and letting myself succumb to that power that I had deep inside me. Calling for a vision.

Not long after I let my hand hover the edge of the rocky crags did that familiar flash of white fill my mind, taking me instantly…

… _To a place on the edge of a forest where Queen Isis rode with her band of sister warriors that she had brought with her to King Pheron's council. Smoke from_ (what my inner voice had told me) _a nearby settlement came, billowing out to the high clear sky, like a pillar._

 _Riding to her_ _where more of her warriors battered, bloodstained, soot covered, and filled with despair. As Isis helped a deeply wounded warrior onto her saddle, a pained and angered look flashed across her face. As her and her fellow warriors left the place that she had known so long as home…_

… It was then the vision ended. I could feel my throat tighten as I felt the strong wave of despair, and the aching pain that followed.

The anguish of Isis.

I took a deep breath, and placed that shared pain into a dark space inside me. As I did so I could hear the gigantic door open, and the voice of the man I loathed with my every breath since I could remember ask me his usual question.

"What news from my Sorceress today?"

I looked up to see The Great Teacher, Memnon, stride across the throne room. He was dressed in black battle leathers, fit for the monster of a warlord that he was. At his sides, at least two paces back to show respect was Thorak and Takmet.

The two men stopped as their king and general made his way up the steps to his throne, leaning to face me. It was then I turned to him, my eyes half open, staring at the marble floor.

"The forces of Queen Isis are scatted to the four winds, Sire," I spoke in an emotionless tone.

I did not have to look up to know that Memnon was grinning to his two commanders like a greedy child.

"The people of Ur are reeling from the death of their king," I continued.

I also did not have to look up to know that Takmet had a smile on his face as well. But I went on, revealing my repulsion to no one.

"Pheron's tribe are leaving their cities. They are scattered, lost, and leaderless."

"And what of the Nubian?"

I shook my head, my earrings making tiny chimes as I did so.

"Balthazar and his people remain hidden from my sight," I told him.

At once Memnon looked stern.

"Do the gods shield them?"

I gave him a tiny shrug and replied, "My sight does not reveal this, My Lord."

I could hear Memnon lean back into his golden throne, take a deep breath, then turn to his generals, get off his throne and walk to them.

"Give the generals the news, have them make my armies ready for the next campaign."

"Yes, My Lord," both men murmured.

And quickly both left. It was then did I look up at the man who had me imprisoned for all these years as he stood near a table of food of fruits, sweetmeats, and fine wines. Hate and anger filling me as gazed at him. Apparently, he must of seen the anger in my eyes because he suddenly asked with a surpisingly tinder smile.

"You think I am cruel, don't you?"

I took a deep breath, thinking quickly of how I would answer. Turning back to the map before me.

"I rarely think of you at all, My Lord," I replied, my tone lacking the contempt in my words.

Memnon turned to the table and ripped a shank of meat from a golden platter. Obviously, not pleased with my reply. I could sense a debate of ours start to brew, but I couldn't careless.

"You sorely test my good nature, Cassandra," He spoke firmly.

"You brought me here, only to fulfill _a purpose_ , My Lord," I reminded cuttingly.

"Yes?" He said turning to me, his voice raising slightly. "Perhaps you've forgotten what life is like out side these walls."

It was then he threw the shank of meat to the chained lion and tiger. Both went at the meat, biting and clawing at each other, trying to get the food.

"That is what it is like out there. Heartless, ignorant, and savage."

 _What an apt description of yourself,_ I could not help but think. But I did not speak these words.

"But I can change that," Memnon said taking a few steps to me. "Am I not called 'the Teacher of Men'? I will bring order now in our lifetimes, just as the prophecy says."

I got up and walked past him, as if to go to that table filled with food an drink, saying only this:

"I know the prophecy."

"You should," Memnon pointed out. "That vision, after all, was yours. Say it."

I could feel my throat tighten at the mere mention of repeating the prophecy that had destroyed my life so long ago.

"Do you _not know it_ , my lord? Don't the words _ring in you mind_ every **moment** you send another regiment to war? Don't they _chime in you ear_ every time you **spill the blood of another tribe and it's peoples**?"

"SAY IT!" He hissed so similar to a deadly cobra.

I took a deep breath, knowing I must do as he commanded.

Never did I feel the invisible chain captivity pull at me then I did the moment he would command me to repeat that damnable prophecy. I despised those words as much as I despised the man who commanded me to say them. But I took deep breath and reluctantly, I spoke in a emotionless voice:

" 'By tolling bell, and thunder's swell, a flaming star falls from the sky. By a full moon's glow, in House of Scorpio, knelling men shall bow to the king on high.' "

Memnon took a step before me.

" _ **I am that king**_ **,** Cassandra," He said sternly. "In one weeks time, the moon will be in Scorpio and the Prophecy will be fulfilled."

I said nothing at this, I just stared.

"I will bring order after centuries of chaos!" Memnon continued. "An order that will last for a thousand years!"

I took a deep breath, knowing this never to be true.

"Rivers of blood will never bring peace-!" I began when Memnon angrily cut me off.

"But they can bring _**obedience**_! And that _will_ suffice!"

At that I knew that the conversation had just ended. Leaving me knowing that he would never change, that he would never stop killing, even when he's established his 'great empire'. In fact, I greatly feared this day. All hope for freedom would be forever lost, and only the Gods knew what Memnon would do to his own people.

An adder can't change it's deadly poison to sweet honey, after all.

It was then Memnon took a step closer to me, making him a bit too closer for my comfort. The back of his hand coming up to stroke my cheek

" And when I become the King of Legend," Memnon said studying me, a look in his eye that made me feel violated. "You shall take your place beside me…On a throne, of course…And in my bed."

At those last words, my stomach twisted, so quickly that I almost became ill. Even though I feared I would vomit at the mere mentioning of me in bed with that _monster_ , I found my voice.

"Only a virgin can be possessed with the gift of second sight, My Lord. In your bed of delight, I would lose my gift, and you would lose your advantage in battle," I said with a tiny smile, knowing well the stories that I had listened to years ago.

Memnon smiled at me in return.

"The day I speak of, it the day that I no longer need your vision, My beautiful sorceress. All that I will require is the vision of loveliness that you are," He said.

"Like right now cassandra, I don't need your little precious gift." Memnon said with smile that make Cassandra shiver.

Cassandra gasped as memon come closer " but the war isn't over my lord.., You will lose if you not use my gift and you'll never get protection from god. I said with seductive tone and my fake smile..

"So you think i will lose if not using you, not using your gift".., as memnon hand touch my back and make me closer to his..

" No, i didn't mean that my lord." I fell uneasy and try to move my body from his grasp. Memnon: smirk and caressing my skin..

I see his eyes and I know that eyes ….

Is the eyes full of lust.. the eyes of monster that going violated his prey.

How can this happen I, I have to make excuse to get out from this dangerous situation..

I fell back of my head pull by his hand slowly..

"my lord.. I.. Ahhp…." Suddenly his mouth caught mine

he kiss me passionately and trying to slip his tongue into me…

no, no, i don't want this, this can't be happening now.i taught my mind . I try to not kiss back Memnon: why your kiss feel so empty cassandra..? Cassandra: my lord i think you must stop this, you'll regret if you continue.. Memnon: hmm i know who will be lost cassandra,.. It's your lost.. Cassandra: (shivered) (Memnon hand reach her hand and drag her to his bedroom) Cassandra feel helpless... She can't do nothing. She will be killed if she not obey his request. right now Memnon just want her.. Memnon: right now what i want is you.. You in my bed. Without a strain of this cloth.

He softly ran his hand down my arm and… well I shall say simply this, one did not have to be a mind reader to know what the Great Teacher was thinking then.

I flinched at his cold touch, feeling dirty, ill, and contaminated.

I drew away from Memnon, brushing against a knife on his belt. Perhaps this was the weapon that he had taken from Mathayus, I'm not sure. But I do know that as I brushed it a flash of white intruded my sight, and a vision sized me taking me…

… _To a rocky crag, a days travel from Gomorrah. There a scrawny, slightly bearded man was running, alongside a strange yet beautiful white camel, crying to it's rider._

" _Hey! We had a deal!"_

 _It's rider turned to the man. At once, I recognized him._

 _The Akkadian assassin- Mathayus! He was coming here to avenge his brother's death. I could feel it in the anger and hatred that burned in his blood._

" _That's right," Mathayus replied to the small man. "And I haven't killed you._ ** _Yet_** _."_

At once my vision ended.

 _So, Mathayus had survived_ , I thought, a bit surprised. At once I felt a small twinge of hope.

Maybe there was still hope for my freedom, yet.

"What's wrong?" spoke a sudden voice.

Suddenly I remembered, _Memnon._ He must of seen the look of surprise on my face, as well as the look in my eye when a vision overcomes me because he quickly asked.

"What did you see?"

Quickly, I made up a story.

"My sincerest apologies my lord," I said, not truly lying, and trying to look weary as I felt. "The hard journey home has very trying on me. I fear I'm not feeling my best."

Memnon studied my face. I knew that he was looking for treachery or deceit. He had never trulytrusted me, not since my mother had died by his hand. Finding neither he spoke.

"Perhaps you should retire to your chambers," He suggested. "But I will have need of you tomorrow, when my generals come calling

"Thank you, My Lord," I bowed my head.

I turned and started to walk away, in a hurry to go to my rooms, and be left alone to my own thoughts. Then, suddenly, Memnon called my name.

"Cassandra!"

I stopped, but did not turn to face him.

"Your well being is of the utmost importance to me," Memnon spoke behind me. "You know that do you?"

I did not bother to hide the anger and hate that, I'm sure came, to my face. The hate that "My" Lord did not see. The hate that had boiled in my heart for the last decade. A hate that would never go away. Not as long as lived with out my family and with the nightmares that I would forever have of their screams. Not as long as I was haunted by the thoughts of what could have been.

"Yes, My Lord," I said, keeping my voice even as I hated him with every fiber of my soul, of my being. "You are most generous."

And I left the room, quietly thinking, _Dear Gods help me!_

 _For if Mathayus doesn't help me escape, then I will take my own life without hesitation this time._

 _I would rather die, gladly, and burn in the fires of hell for all eternity for my suicide then become the bride of soulless, foul,_ ** _monster_** _._


End file.
